


ultramarine

by sweetmuses



Category: Kamen Rider Zero-One, Tokusatsu
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, POV Second Person, idk what i was doing but i hope it's good, please let her kick gai in the face multiple times, yua deserves better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:53:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23807956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetmuses/pseuds/sweetmuses
Summary: You’re not dead yet, but you sure as hell feel like it.How one woman realizes she's falling apart.
Relationships: Fuwa Isamu & Yaiba Yua
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	ultramarine

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea on how this happened. I just hope that it's good?! Anyways, #YuaDeservesBetter2k20

It plays out like a mantra in your head. 

_ I am not a tool.  _

_ I am doing this by my own will.  _

_ I am not a tool.  _

_ Tool… _

Over and over and over again. 

You admit to yourself that it’s all a lie at one point, but you refuse to give in. You needed to prove to yourself that you had some semblance of power to keep on going. You needed to prove to everyone that you weren’t some disembodied figure acting like a guard dog. You needed to prove that you weren't just some...

Tool. 

_ The world is not kind enough to allow one person to live on their own.  _

You punch the mirror in front of you. 

  
  
  
  
  


_ No.  _

_ No.  _

_ Please no.  _

A strange part of yourself admits that you do care about Fuwa. You care about his well-being more than enough, unfortunately. You couldn’t just ignore that nagging feeling in your stomach whenever he would do something stupid enough to land himself in the hospital. 

It’s little wonder that Gai just so happens to torture him right in front of your eyes. 

You reach out and…

Stop. 

It makes you feel guilty. 

You hate yourself for it. 

  
  
  
  


“I finally get it now, why you’re always with that pathetic excuse of a president. Getting your brains messed with, being used as a tool...” 

You cringe at the statement. It’s hard enough knowing the truth already. Getting confronted with it by a person that you care about? 

You prefer dying over that. 

“I’m not a tool. I’m here of my own free will.” 

Liar. He could see right through it. 

“Then why did you join ZAIA?” 

You have no idea. You don’t remember. You don’t want to think of it, really. 

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” 

No. You had no fucking clue where you were at this point. All you see is Hell and nothing else. 

“I’m not a tool.” 

It’s pathetic. Helpless, even. You walk away in the hopes of never seeing it again. Being confronted with the cold, hapless truth that you should’ve seen coming a long time ago. 

You don’t even know where you’re going right now. All you needed to do was  _ go away _ . 

  
  
  
  
  


Aiming your gun becomes second nature to you at this point. 

So much so that you end up aiming it right at Fuwa’s head. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” he yells, way too much for your liking. 

“Fuwa, why the hell are you here,” you say apprehensively, putting your gun in the safe. 

“I’m just worried about you.” 

“Sure you are. Don’t need to remind me,” you sardonically mumble. 

You keep at arm’s length, preferring a safe distance between the two of you. Whatever the hell “safe” meant to you anyway. 

He takes a once over at you and stares at your face. Soon he’s standing right in front of you, almost invading your personal space. In spite of what your personal instincts are telling you, you just let it happen. 

You’re too broken to care anyway. 

“What...the fuck happened to you.” He says this quietly, sadly. Almost. 

“You know what, if you’re here to criticize me, at least be more blunt about it.” The bitterness seethes through every word you just said. You’re not sure if you regret it, but it only serves to make him angrier. 

“Did he do this to you? I swear to god if Amatsu did this -” 

“Go home Fuwa. Please.” You’re hugging yourself now, more out of defense than comfort. 

He steps back, surprisingly enough. 

“Why are you still letting this happen to you?” 

It’s pitiful. You hate it. You would rather drown in the silence than live with the statements repeating in your head. 

“Fuwa. Get out.” 

He leaves soon enough, with the slam of a door following afterwards. You stumble on your way to the bathroom, grimacing when you see the broken mirror. 

You take a look at yourself in the broken shards. There’s a hollow laugh that echoes. You’re not sure if you want to cry or scream. 

The black eye will disappear. 

The scratches will heal. 

The dark circles will linger, but nothing a little concealer wouldn’t fix. 

Your eyes are dark - correction, dead. You haven’t seen the light in them in days. 

You’re not dead yet, but you sure as hell feel like it. 

_ I am not a tool.  _

_ I am doing this by my own will.  _

_ I am…  _

You cry out of misery. 

  
  



End file.
